I
can still see the
glistening crimson on the fields of white. The sight of it sends
shivers down my spine like the cold never could. I've managed to
quell the bleeding, but my pursuer had gotten the whiff of me and
will eventually find me. I can hear footsteps crunching the snow, but
I don’t look back, tighten the hood around my head and, against the
gale, press on.